


Cold, Little Heart

by ZoS



Series: 'Tis the Season [2]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 05:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19192537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoS/pseuds/ZoS
Summary: Miranda has a cold.





	Cold, Little Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in the same universe as _Questions, Apologies, and Carbs_ , albeit a few years later.

If Andy weren't already awake, the rattling cough from the other side of the bed would have done the job. It's not dignified, not elegant and subtle like its releasing owner; it's loud and pained and carries with it a good amount of mucus that refuses to leave the throat.

"See a doctor," Andy mumbles into her pillow, a monotonous, well-rehearsed sentence by now.

"It's just a cold," is Miranda's equally dry, albeit hoarse and nasally response before she promptly forces herself out of bed. On the floor, there's a plastic bag overflowing with used tissues and she picks it up and takes it with her. "Go back to sleep."

Andy gladly would if she didn't have a job to attend after a half-sleepless night of listening to Miranda's symptoms, she thinks bitterly as she watches Miranda sniffle all the way to the bathroom before closing the door in her face.

They make a strange duo: polar opposites that somehow make it work, day after day. When Andy is sick, she's miserable and clingy, she likes to be comforted and tended to and pampered and it gives her a great sense of security to know that someone is taking care of her and making sure she gets better when she can't do it herself.

Miranda is, more often than not, in denial. She's in denial about her feelings, in denial about her actions, and her denial features most prominently when she's sick. Perhaps she thinks she's invincible, one level below immortal, or maybe she just doesn't like to admit that she's human altogether, equal to all the other plain beings around her. But when her appendix was days or minutes away from rupturing, Andy had to literally pry the Book out of her hands (after Miranda had silently agonized over her pain from behind her _Runway_ desk for a whole day) and drag her to the hospital; when she'd gotten food poisoning at a seafood restaurant, Andy stood outside the locked bathroom door while Miranda pretended to not be puking her entire meal, and now she will be washing her face, covering it with the best make-up in the world to hide the red nose and puffy eyes, and waltz into her office feeling like death warmed over and infecting anything and anyone within a breathing distance just so she doesn't have to admit that the mighty Miranda Priestly is sick.

It's a cruel world, Andy muses in resignation as she throws back the cushiony blanket and welcomes the freezing February air that finds its sneaky way into the townhouse despite the closed windows. It's a cruel world and in this world, Miranda is cruelest to herself.

\---

After miraculously convincing Miranda to leave the house with a coat that's more warm than color-coordinated with her outfit; after Miranda drags her sluggish body back upstairs to change her clothes to fit the coat; after making her promise to leave work early if she feels worse, which they both know she won't; after calling twice during the day to hear how she's doing; after Miranda blows her off both times, both times making her Ls sound like Ds and her Ms sound like Bs; after having to pull the phone away from her ear so Miranda's violent coughing doesn't deafen Andy; after ordering Miranda to take a break, eat something, drink plenty of tea, and get a cough syrup and knowing she'll do none of those things; after enduring a subway ride with other winter-affected people and praying she won't catch anything at least until she's done working on her series of articles; after returning home to find that the housekeeper hasn't opened a single window to rid the place of Miranda's germs; after doing that task herself; after calling Caroline and Cassidy to let them know that their mom is still sick, that their mom refuses to acknowledge that she's sick, that Andy will take care of their mom, and asking if they're having a good time at their dad's; after taking a shower, changing her clothes, and donning an apron--

\--Andy gets ready to make Miranda soup... and remembers that she doesn't know how.

So, after calling Miranda's favorite Asian restaurant, and after getting two steaming cartons of Tom Yum soup (and an egg roll containter) delivered to their front door, and after transferring everything into classier dishes and taking the trash out, Miranda arrives home in the nick of time and finds Andy placing the second bowl on the kitchen table, still hot and smelling marvelous.

"You're blowing this out of proportion," is her heartfelt greeting, but nevertheless she slumps into her chair, puts her head in her hands, and massages her temples. Her shoulders are hunched, her face is sunken and drawn, the lines around her eyes and lips deeper than usual, and for the first time since Andy met her, she actually looks her age.

"Getting you soup is blowing it out of proportion?" Andy replies conversationally as she takes her own place at the table, even though they know that Miranda is not yet done pretending she's perfectly okay and that Andy is willing to do anything to make her feel perfectly okay.

"Did you make this?" Miranda asks skeptically because she also knows that Andy can't cook.

"What does it matter? You're not sick," Andy retorts and meets Miranda's glare with a cheeky grin. It's hard to be afraid of Miranda when her eyes are baggy and red-rimmed and she's noticably trying with all her might to hold in a sneeze.

"You think you're so clever," she mutters scornfully but then shuts herself up with a full spoon and the slurping sound is even less dignified than the incessant coughing but makes Andy overjoyed nonetheless.

"Hmm," Miranda sighs into her utensil, then proceeds to lower her face toward the bowl and breathe in the steams. To Andy's astonished delight, she admits, "This is just what I needed."


End file.
